The Big Guy's Gone

He had quietly walked up the stairs and kneeled at our sleeping bags before we even knew he was there. Nudging us awake, he whispered loudly: would we like to go hunting? Half asleep, half awake I searched in the dark for my phone. The blue screen lit up: 12.00am, midnight. It was the first night with just the three of us left on top of the watchtower; the others had left the previous day amidst fond farewells and a few tears. We were keen to accompany him on this midnight adventure, feeling privileged he now considered us worthy. Feelings of privilege do not imply feeling like getting dressed however so we stumbled down the stairs in our pyjama’s, sleeping bags secured under our arms as we climbed on the back of the bakkie. We would have been the most improbable and the most under-dressed hunting party in the history of the universe were it not for him compensating for our comical appearance by his sheer presence and vast experience. Even if we had dressed in “Greenpeace” t-shirts and chained ourselves in front of the wheels of the car, we would still have looked like a credible hunting party. Because of him. The sick impala we were looking for narrowly escaped with his life this night but that is the nature of the hunt: unpredictable. We returned to the farm some time in the early morning, tired and smelling faintly of gun smoke but still immensely proud that we went on a hunt with him.

While sitting around the campfire the stories of his close encounters with fate in the form of a sharp pair of horns or a lethal claw almost came alive. I remember the story of him hunting a buffalo years ago. It was the fair kind of hunt, a balanced game of who is hunting whom. The man by himself with nothing but a rifle and his senses, the animal with its own weapons and instinct, nothing more than that. How it should be. The hunter, if all goes well, will only need one or two shots; the buffalo only needs one twig breaking underfoot to become the hunter. This time he fired one shot and prepared for the second, killing shot…which never came. A blocked rifle is ever a possibility but can never come at a more unfortunate moment than when one is staring the fury of nature in its eyes. The roles have now changed and he has to think fast to avoid the horns of the hunter – up a tree, the only refuge in this situation, albeit not an ideal long-term one. The animal is right underneath him, it knows he is in the tree and it is not going to leave until one of them lies dead. Hours pass, the buffalo has not given up and neither has he. Desperate but determined he keeps one eye on the rifle he is trying to repair and the other on the eight hundred kilo’s of rage underneath him. The faulty bullet finally lets go. The second shot, at last.

We did realize at the time we had experienced a holiday unlike any other. Only now do we realize how fortunate we were to have met Tinus and his loving family when we did, out there hidden in an oasis deep in the South African low-veld. When I returned to Campfire Safaris in January of this year Tinus had just left on holiday: a pity I thought at the time, but I would be back soon enough for my next bush-craft lesson from the big guy. It was not meant to be however as he passed away not so long ago. Despite the knowledge that he undoubtedly is where he belongs, in a much better place, I can’t help but feel the loss of somebody who was taken before his time. He could still have touched others with his wisdom and motivation to defend the environment. On the other hand I am also convinced that his family and the hundreds of people he has taught will carry on his work; I know I will.

I made a short video of him back in 2005 while he was demonstrating the peculiar mock-charge of a black rhino – a hilarious hide-and-seek routine which ends in the big animal hopping around on all four’s. Both him and his wife were about to leave Campfire for a short time and this was the last lesson he wanted to show us before he left. Tinus had perfected this little skit over the years and the movie shows him hopping around just as the rhino, with the group standing around crying our eyes out laughing at his antics. Then at the end of this routine, just as he is about to get into the car, he turns around to us, waves, and says, “We love you all.”

"I lift up my eyes to the hills - where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.


He will not let your foot slip - He who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, He who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.


The Lord watches over you - the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.


The Lord will keep you from all harm - He will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forever more."

(Psalm 121 - A Pilgrim's Prayer)